Whimper
by TheInkredibleHanny
Summary: Death is imminent. I'm in a situation much worse. Escape is impossible, but I have to try- for both myself and my little sister. My name is Wren, and this is my story.  Read and review PLEAAASE!
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: Hello, everyone! Thanks for reading this! This chapter is super short, but its about to get really good! Sooo... enjoy!c: **

The ailing bus rattles along the road, trying best as it can not to puncture a tire from the piles of debris littering the forlorn streets. As it rolls slowly to a stop I set my head down on the back of the seat in front of me. It is worn, the leather cracking with age and neglect.

Abilene nudges me with her foot once the bus door clatters open. I sit up to see what she is staring at.

A man has come on to the bus. He is hunched over, wearing a large light brown trudge coat and a sad excuse of a wool hat. After a once over, I rest my head again; he is just another homeless person, like Abilene and I.

Young girls like Abilene and I belong in orphanages everyone would say, those who meet us at the rare job opportunities tell us this every time we have no home to register on the sign-up sheet, if they even care at all. But I know what the orphanages are like. They're where the grey coats come to pick and choose the best ones to sell off to the highest bidder. There's no place to run at an orphanage.

The dilapidated bus finally shudders to a stop in the downtown district. The homeless man stands and walks to the exit. My sister and I follow, none too closely, behind. The street is lined with abandoned building, years out of business as the world slowly crumbled around those who thought they were building a better future. We watch from the door of the bus as he walks to the nearest building and sits down in front of it. He pulls a cup out of his pocket and begins jangling it for passerby, if any stupid enough decide to come along this late at night. I shake my head and try to picture what this road-side would look like if the world hadn't have come to an end. I wonder what my sister would be like, what I would be like, what my _parents..._ I close my eyes and begin walking, tired to the bone.

My sister and I got a job this morning at a clothing factory. I can tell that Abilene is tired and sore, but she doesn't show it, and I don't either. As an older sister, it is my duty to set a good example for Abilene. I only have three more years until I meet my demise, leaving Lena to fend for herself after me for another two years. I grab her by the hand and pull her along. It wouldn't be long until the grey coats began their routine search for stray girls to take. I shudder, thankful our shelter isn't too far from here. We try our best to shield our faces from the wind as we walk down the street, past the homeless man, toward our makeshift home. I can see it as I round the corner.

The homeless man is still in plain sight, but I hardly pay attention. Once we walk into the building that has become our makeshift home, I breathe a sigh of relief. My breath puffs out in front of me. It _is _cold out. I stare at my hands, the gloves worn through at the tips of the fingers, wishing they could do more to provide heat for us.

The whole entrance is completely destroyed, the ceiling is caved in at some parts, busted and layering what light comes through the skylight with a dirty film. I step over a ceiling bar and fix my wool hat. Dutifully, Lena walks over to the abandoned receptionist desk and ducks under it. I follow close behind, ready to get to sleep. Once completely under it, I settle. Lena curls up into a ball as I cover the hole of the desk we are under up with boards and other forms of debris, so that if someone does come into the building, they wont notice either of us as we are sleeping.

"Wren?" my sister asks.

"Yes?"

"Are we going to have to work tomorrow?"

I sigh. Money isn't really a big issue with me. I have been able to make a life with Abilene since my parents died in Kansas two years ago. After fleeing to Oklahoma, I have taken all responsibility of Abilene onto myself. "No," I said, "we don't."

I should have stayed awake.

That's what I think when I wake to the sound of my sister screaming. Immediately after I am hauled up. I fight with all of my might, and Lena is _screaming. _I scream too, once, before I am knocked out cold.

The grey coats, I think. That is my last thought. They found us.

**a/n: Well thanks for reading guys! Review and tell me what you all think! I'll have a new chapter as soon as I get some lovin for this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Peace! **


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: well, this chapter is a bit... morose, I guess you could say. But it'll get more upbeat, I promise! Things start looking up for Wren! Enjoy! **

I am groggy when I wake, plagued by aftershocks of the horrible events that took place to get me here. I have just crawled out of a dream where I am back in that wretched van, clinging to my sister, covering her ears when there are gunshots, when a girl screams, when someone loses control. I can feel her slight body shaking against mine.

The Grey coats are as vicious as I had imagined. They look each and every one of us up and down, putting us in a single-file line to examine any flaws: looking for things the buyer of the girls would look for in a wife. When they are only a few feet away, I take Lena's hand. It is supposed to be a sign of comfort, to tell her I am here, but I really need her support as much as she needs mine.

When the two Grey Coats do stop in front of us, they exchange glances between our faces and our intwined hands.

"Both blonde," the first says.

"Both blue eyed," replies the second.

"Fine bone structures."

"And sisters."

I am violently ripped apart from Lena. I hear her scream, along with a few other girls. As I am shoved into another car; I hear gunshots sounding. I scream Abilene's name until they sedate me with a large needle. The rest is a blur.

As I look around the room I am in now, I begin to sob.

It is a beautiful room, one any girl would die for: snow white with gold trimmings and a bed fit for a queen. The sheets are silk.

I hate it.

I want my sister.

The door opens, just then. An older man walks inside, clearly a first generation. He is tall and lanky, with a balding brown head and deep set brown eyes.

I cringe back and he smiles.

"Don't be scared. I have food for you," he says as he approaches me with a silver tray. "My name is Jeb, if you ever need anything," he continues as he sets the tray of food on the table next to me.

I say nothing, just stare at him with wide eyes.

He smiles again. "You've been the quietest. I like that in a girl. No use crying over something you have no control of."

When I am still silent he gives a tiny bow and walks out of the room.

I eat, barely tasting the food, and fall into a dreamless sleep. I am exhausted and depressed.

I know there is no way out of the room; the large picture window is barred, and the door that Jeb walks in and out of locks automatically. Even if there is a way out, would I take it?

What would I have to go back to?

The sound of my door opening wakes me. I am expertly trained to show no altered breathing or open my eyes. I lie perfectly still and listen.

There are about three pairs of shoes shuffling across the carpet toward me. Before they actually reach the bed, though, I turn and stare at them all.

There are three girls standing before me. One is an old lady, portly and graying, with sharp blue eyes. The other two are girls, one blonde, one with hair black as midnight, her skin dark as well.

"Oh, you're up!" chirps the older woman. "I'm Margret, and this is Molly and Farah," she says, gesturing to the blonde and the brunette.

I say nothing.

"Well, today is the big day!" she sings as she pulls me out of the bed and stands me before her. I don't fight it. "My, you are pretty. You look just like one of the other brides. Uncanny." Saying that only reminds me of my sister, and I die a little more inside. I allow them to place me in front of a large mirror in a bathroom attached to the room I was imprisoned in.

My vision glazes over. Somewhere in the back of my mind I half wonder if I am really, physically dying. If it is at all possible to speed my already impending death up to an earlier date. How convenient that would be.

The older woman, Margaret, does not seem to notice, however. "Oh, this is so exciting. While you were out, we got you all patched up as well. You were out for quite awhile. I was rooting for you, of course, but some of the other workers were skeptical about your survival."

I say nothing. I dont understand what she means by "patched up", until I realize that the hair on my legs has been removed, and there are no more bruises on my body, no more blood on my face from fighting off the Grey coats. I'm mildly impressed.

Margaret chuckles. "Well, Jeb _did _say you were a quiet one."

I am silent the entire time Margaret, Farah, and Molly work my hair into a curled mass gathered on the side of my head and over my left shoulder (I imagine they are trying to cover up the puncture wound the needle made when they sedated me), and force me into a white gown. It is beautiful, I cannot deny that. A corseted fit, made of white lace, with a white overskirt, made of what I assume to be silk, and draped layers bunching up in the back. They throw pearls around my neck and sprinkle what looks like silver glitter all over me.

I litterally sparkle.

They do my makeup next, too over-the-top, but who am I to say? My eyes are adorned in silver and glitter, turning my eyes a stormy grey color. My lips are left bare, the only color is in my cheeks. I look beautiful, of course, or the grey coats would not have left me alive, but I feel empty. I look, and feel, like a snowflake: cold and unwavering and _temporary. _

"Well, looks like its time to meet the groom!" Margaret announces.

The beginning of the end, I think glumly to myself.

"Oh, she just looks lovely," Margaret gushed. "This girl will definitely be a show-stopper, dont you think girls?"

Both of Margarets assistants voice their agreeance.

"Wren," I mutter.

Margaret was practically on top of me. "What was that, dear?"

I sat down in front of the vanity. I felt sick, but I spoke anyway. "My name is Lawrence. And if you think I'm going to make your time working here easy, you better think twice."

Margaret stares at me, looking like she doesnt know whether to laugh or show her real fear.

I now realize that this is war, and this wedding is just the beginning.

**a/n: There you go! The second chapter! Read and Review please! Thankyou for reading!c: Peace! **


	3. Chapter 3

**an: Hi guys! So I just recently got a review for this story which totally made my day, so thank you! And it made me want to write another chapter! I hope you guys arent too surprised by everything! Enjoy! **

After being led through a series of hallways and down a few flight of stairs, I am standing behind a curtained entrance to a room beyond. I can hear a din of voices beyond the curtains, causing goose bumps to roll up my flesh when I realize that I cannot place how many people are beyond this point. Once I cross through this curtain, the final divide between my world and theirs, what will happen? I shudder at the thought of living like this forever.

In front of me are two other girls, my sister wives. There is one blonde, like me, and one brunet. The blonde, I realize, does look an awful lot like me, yet she is taller with a bigger build. She flashes me a dangerous looking smile when she catches my eye. Her dress is skin-tight, hugging her in all of the right places. The brunet, however, looks immeasurably sad, and for a moment, I want to open my mouth and say, _"I lost everything, too. You aren't alone in your despair"_, but I don't. Her dress is a slim fit as well, made of a modest white lace with a train almost as long as mine. She looks beautiful. They both do.

It seems between one moment and the next, both of the girls have disappeared behind the curtain. I am alone.

"You're the last one to walk down the aisle, Lawrence," Margret says quietly. My name sounds foreign coming from her mouth, but I don't show the aversion to my own name. If I will keep anything when I walk into the room beyond, it will be my name and the story with it. My story. That much I know. "Good luck, dear."

And with that, she shoves me through the curtain.

I stumble, but regain my balance immediately. The heels on my feet are already beginning to burn, my limbs shaking from nerves. The room is magnificent; large enough to station all of the people in the Oklahoma City downtown district, probably. I am swept up in the glimmer of the crystal chandeliers that line the ceilings, and the large glass windows showing the deep blue night that lies beyond it. Along with the magnitude of the room, I realize there are people everywhere. Every shape and size and color, all dressed in the gaudy fashion of the rich and famous.

All staring at me.

I take my eyes from them and try not to focus on the video camera swirling around my figure. I knew that my wedding would be televised, but I also didn't take into consideration how I would feel with the camera in my face. I take a deep breath and try to focus on simply moving my feet. I know that if I do not move soon, guards will come and move my feet for me. I do not want to be subjected to that, so I pick my right foot up and take a step.

It is then that I look up to the stage at the far end of the room.

The first thing I notice is that there are too many people up there for just one wedding.

I sweep my eyes over everyone up there and become dizzy. _Something isn't right, _I think. Why are there two grooms? Why are there 5 brides already up there?

As I near the stage slowly, cautiously, I realize that the two men up there in tuxes look alike. Exactly alike. Twins? A double wedding? I recognize the two women up there that were to be my sister brides, but didn't even see the other three up there that must have been my future husband's brother's brides. They are all beautiful as well. Another brunet, one with strawberry-blonde curls, and one-

I stop dead and stare. I get so dizzy that I think that I might pass out.

"Abilene," I whisper. The whisper rips its way out of my heart, out of my chest, out of my throat, out of my lips, and I grin.

I want to sob, scream, jump up and down. I want to run to her.

It is all I can do to walk steadily to the stage where I am directed to my place across from my sister.

_She's alive__, _I scream, sing, repeat over and over in my head. She gives me a sly smile as well. I can tell she's scared. I can tell she is close to tears, but she doesn't show it. She is brave.

Like her big sister.

"Lady Lawrence," a man says, breaking my concentration. I turn to look at him, and realize I am terrified all over again. The man is old and gray, an obvious first generation. He smiles at me when our eyes meet, an almost apologetic look. _Good, _I think, _at least he has the empathy to feel bad about ruining all of these girl's lives. _

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" he asks almost politely.

That floors me.

"What-" I begin, but stop myself. I'm given the choice? He's asking me? I look at Lena, eyes wide. Did my sister willingly say yes?

She bites her lip and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. I know now that I do not have a choice. Something bad will happen to me, or maybe even Lena, if I object, and I cannot risk taking that chance.

"Yes," I whisper, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

Then the boy I assume is to be my husband begins walking to each of us, placing rings on our fingers. I study him as he approaches the blonde girl. He is tall and lean, with a mop of dark hair on his head and an almost sweet face. I can tell just by looking at his eyes, a hazel color, that he has not seen the horrors of the world. While the world outside was burning, hurting, dying, he was safe in this house of crystal, glass, and lies.

"Anitra," he says to the blonde girl, who smiles almost lovingly at him, "a ring to resemble our promise to each other. I look very forward to having you as my wife."

Anitra grins widely and whispers something that sounds an awful lot like "I love you", but I cant be sure, and I cant tell by the reaction on his face.

He then walks to the brunet beside me. "Sage," he says. I watch as her face takes him in. Her pupils dilate, but nothing else about her changes. She is as good as dead. "A ring to resemble our promise to each other. I look very forward to having you as my wife."

It is my turn.

My pulse kicks up 20 notches as he reaches for my left hand. It is limp in his surprisingly firm grip. If I hadn't looked at his eyes, I would almost be able to believe that he was someone raised in the real world. Almost.

"Lawrence," he says.

Involuntarily, I look up into his eyes.

He is lovely, but there is an emptiness there that worries me. His skin is sun-tanned, a fine boned nose and dark lashes. I almost open my mouth to tell him to call me Wren, but bite my tongue. "A ring," he says in a pace that wasn't exactly like the other times he said this, "to resemble our promise to each other." He slips the ring on to my finger delicately. I suddenly cant look at him. I cant take this. "I look very forward to having you as my wife."

_My wife. _

__The celebration ends with cheers and applause. I think there is rice thrown at us, but I cant tell. They can be throwing stones and bricks at me for all I care.

_My wife. _

__We are all ushered out of the room in a single file line. I crane my neck to see if I can reach my sister but she is too far away. I catch a glimpse of her blonde hair, try reaching for her, but a guard grabs my outstretched arm and shoves me forward through the curtain that I had come out of what seemed to be only moments, maybe years, before.

_My_

There is a new pain and sense of loneliness surfacing as Margaret shows me back to my room. I realize that from the moment I have done the worst thing I could ever possibly imagine myself doing willingly. I have betrayed not only me, but my sister as well. I have failed. I have become the one thing that I have tried running from the moment my parents died.

_Wife. _

**an: Well I hope you guys liked it! Please, please review and tell me what you guys think of it so far! This is one of my favorite stories and I have biiiig plans for Wren and Lena, just not the kind of plans I hope you guys are expecting (I like the element of surprise!) C: Anywho, till next time! Thanks for giving this story a shot! Peace! **_  
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	4. Chapter 4

**AN: HI GUYS! Enjoy!C:**

I lay in my bed all night, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling. The relief I feel for seeing my sister alive is overwhelming, but-

Margret told me after we had a celebratory meal for our wedding that night that I was not allowed to go find her. I had to get permission from my husband, or the lady of the house. I shuddered.

The Lady of the House is regal looking, I suppose. But she is cold. She holds no emotions in her eyes whatsoever. Though I hate my husband and his brother with all of my heart, I feel a slight twinge of sympathy for them. I think I would rather have no mother at all than a mother who so blatantly hates me.

Normally I would be terrified that my husband will come into my room to consummate the marriage, but Jeb whispered to me as I wrung the edges of my nightgown between my hands nervously that his father had just passed away and he was still grieving. I had, at least, one more night to try and escape all of this.

_Jacob _was his name. Jacob Armenian Gethrow. What an awful name, I think. My parents would have named him something to tie him to their past. Some name of a small town in Kansas, where my parents were from. Where my sister and I were from.

But I'm glad he isn't named anything similar to my sister and I because I don't want to be associated with this boy. There is a hurt in his eyes that makes it hard to look at him. Though if I were more vain, like one of my sisters, Anitra, I wouldn't have a hard time looking at him at all. Both he and his brother are beautiful, almost perfect. Like a beautifully shining glass structure standing among the ruins of a dead world.

I wake in my still-foreign room early the next morning. I had fallen into a fitful sleep filled with gowns that billowed in the wind and trussed up men and women whose teeth dripped with venom when they smiled at me.

I jump out of my nightmare-filled bed and run to the bathroom across the room from me. I get into the small shower inlaid into the wall and wash quickly, not even relishing the hot water that causes my skin to steam and turn red. When I am out I throw on a robe and return to my room.

I am almost not entirely surprised to see that my bed has been made and there is a tray with what looks like pancakes on a large white plate sitting on the bed side table. The thought of pancakes makes me think of my home, my _real _home, and I am filled with sadness.

Ignoring the food, I open the closet and throw on a pair of jeans that fit me perfectly and a sweater that is as soft as a blanket. I pad barefoot to my door and check the knob. Unlocked.

I open it slowly, praying that the metal hinges don't creak. Once the door has opened enough, I slip out into the hall.

It is a pretty hallway, nicely done with rosy carpets and gold-trimmed walls. I think I see movement, but realize it is only a mirror. I pull my wet hair into a loose knot on top of my head and try to think where the other brides would be kept. On the other side of the house, maybe? My stomach tightens at the thought of that long trek, but I have to try. I turn right and walk to the end of the hall instead of left. Left was a dead end with only two more doors, doors I assume that are my sister-wives'.

Once at the end of the first corridor, I make my way down the second. It is so quiet in this house, I have a mixed sense of relief and horror. For a moment I think that I am trapped in an endless house with rooms filled with only dead bodies. I shudder and push my way forward, determined to get to Abilene.

I have gone down so many corridors by now that I know for certain that I am hopelessly lost. The house was much larger than I would have ever imagined. Maybe it did go on forever. Maybe my earlier thought wasn't so far off mark.

When I hear footsteps behind me, I turn to see that there are servants walking around, close enough to where I can see their shadows. _I haven't come this far to get caught. _I turn down another corridor and break into a run when I hear their footsteps grow nearer. Panicked, I turn down a few more halls, checking behind me to make sure there are none of the servants running after me.

I knock into something, then. I stumble back, but a pair of strong hands catch me before I fall. I bite back a scream and look up into a pair of hazel eyes.

"I think you're lost," he says with a small, gentle smile.

I say nothing, just stare wide-eyed at the boy holding me. At first I think _My husband- he's found me. _But as I calm down and focus, I see that the boy holding me at arm's length is his brother. I never caught his name.

He cocks his head and studies me. "You're one of my brother's," he says, raising an eyebrow. "You managed to get all the way across the house?"

I try finding my voice, and fail. His fingers clasping my arms are firm, but not rough.

"Impressive," he says, looking genuinely like he is stunned I made it.

"Thanks," I say shakily.

He studies me for a long moment before releasing me. "So who are you trying to find?" he asks.

When I say nothing he gives me a teasing look. "I know you aren't trying to run away; you would have brought some shoes with you," he says, directing his gaze to my bare feet. "And I doubt you came all the way across the house to be graced with my presence. So tell me," he says kindly, "who are you after?"

"Abilene," I whisper. When he looks blankly at me, I say, "She's my sister."

He looks at me a moment longer before nodding. "You look like her." He turns and starts walking away from me. Turning back to look at me, he smiles. "I'll bring you to her. Come along."

Hesitantly, I follow him.

**an: I was gonna cut the chapter off here, but I'm in a writing mood.C: Enjoy!**

****The walk is silent as the grave. I don't want to walk beside him, but he gives me no choice, matching my pace perfectly. He smiles down at me as I look up at him. He is a head taller than me, and as handsome as his brother. _His eyes, though. They carry no hatred or sadness. I could stare into them for hours. _I quickly break his gaze and stare at the carpet. It has turned into a lush crimson color now, and is soft against my bare feet.

"May I ask your name?" Jacob's brother asks.

I bite my lip before replying. "Wren," I say.

The boy seems to consider this for a moment. "Like the bird. Nice name."

The bird? "No," I say, shaking my head.

He looks at me with raised eyebrows. "No?" he echoes.

Stupidly, I blush. "It's short for Lawrence," I say.

"Abilene and Lawrence," he says, half to himself. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you two were from Kansas." His smile is wry.

"And what's _your _name?" I ask.

The smile is still on his face. "Asher," he says. "Asher Romulus Gethrow."

I try and hide my grimace. Another weird name.

He laughs at my expression. "It's not a name I would have chosen, either," he reassures me. "You can call me Ash for short."

I nod, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to talk either.

"Ah," Ash says finally, "here we are." He gestures toward a door in a hall that looks similar to my own.

When he sees me hesitating, he presses his hand to my back, easing my forward. "Go on in," he says.

Without another word, I rush forward and yank the door open.

**AN: Welllll, there you go! See, these guys aren't bad! Their mom, though.. *shudder*. Review please! **


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